Redoubtable (28 page)

41

Kris
wasn’t actually reduced to hobbling about on a cane again. Not actually. She could hobble very well on her own two feet after Abby applied a balloon splint to her hurting ankle.

Abby was careful to select a clear splint.

“That way everyone can see how black-and-blue your ankle is. You might actually get some sympathy from the psychopaths you hang out with.”

“You, my fine feathered friend, are one of those psychopaths,” Kris shot back.

“Guilty as charged and delighted to be. Oh, and I’m alive. I understand the head psychopath ain’t.”

“Very ain’t,” Kris said with a shiver. She changed the subject. “How’s Cara?”

“Safe. More quiet than a girl that age should be. Very, very contrite. If you got anything you want that kid to do for you, ask now.”

“How bad was it for her?”

“She insists nothing happened. When have you heard
that
from a teenager? The docs did a full checkup. She is okay, but it must have been hell wondering every second of every day if, no matter how bad it was, was it about to get worse?”

Kris nodded. It went without saying that nothing like this should ever happen to a young kid like Cara.

Or to anyone for that matter.

Penny was still collecting evidence for the worst crimes they’d found, but the entire hellhole was a crime. How could justice ever be done for something like Port Royal?

“Cara knows there are counselors on board,” Kris said.

“Both of them were her friends before this happened. I think she’ll talk to them, friend to friend, then maybe for something stronger,” Abby said, then turned to Kris’s closet and returned with a brown skirt. No, it was a knee-length pair of shorts that were so wide and flowing that it easily passed for a skirt. Abby also held a loose, silk, off-the-shoulder top in gold.

“This ought to let you show off your black-and-blue ankle in fine contrast to good Mother Earth tones.

As Abby helped Kris dress, she went on. “Kris, I haven’t said thank you for letting me have Cara with us. I know a girl wouldn’t usually fit all that well on a warship, but Cara really needed me.”

“You can still say that after what just happened?”

“Kris, you didn’t see how the crew took to Cara’s coming back. This is her home, and Cara really needs to feel like someplace is home. Yes, something bad happened, but, Kris, growing up in Five Corners is just a long list of bad things happening. Here, she’s got a home, and I think seeing the long line of boffins and sailors waiting for her in the drop bay was the most healing experience she’s ever known.

“She’d quit crying by the time the longboat docked. She was still going over a mantra of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I won’t ever do that again.’ But when she saw all of them waiting for her, she broke down crying again. And those were the happiest tears I’ve ever seen in my life. Happy and healing. I wish you could have seen them.”

“I was kind of otherwise occupied,” Kris drawled.

“Yeah, you usually are at times like those. Baby ducks, you really ought to set aside time for the good times.”

“You can talk to my scheduling secretary.”

“Yeah, I will,” Abby said, and turned Kris around to see how close to beautiful she’d managed today.

Kris winced as she put weight on her bad ankle.

“Well, I just wanted you to know how grateful Cara and I are for you having us around. I hope you’ll keep us.”

“Um,” Kris said. Since next on her agenda was deciding what the
Wasp
would do in the future . . . and who would be going with it into the nasty unknown, Kris didn’t want to get too committal.

In the next hour, Abby might be running, not walking, for the nearest exit.

Abby seemed satisfied with the “Um.” She handed Kris one of her canes. “The doc said you ought to take some painkillers. But knowing you, I suspect this cane is the best I can offer.”

The party was in full swing by the time Kris limped into the Forward Lounge. The last of the Marines had been lifted back to the
Wasp
. They now formed a sea of khaki, occupying the right-hand side of the lounge. Sailors’ whites held the left. A couple of tables remained open in the middle.

From the farthest middle table, Jack raised a hand and signaled Kris to come. Marines and sailors on their way to and from the bar made respectful way for Kris as she wobbled her way to the table that usually had the best view of space.

At the moment, with the
Wasp
nosed into the space station, Kris’s view was of pipes, bulkheads that needed painting, and other less interesting stuff.

Jack seated Kris with her back to the view.

There was a soft drink waiting for Kris as she settled into her designated chair. Jack cleared a second chair for her ankle, giving it a place of honor. “You know, that’s about the only casualty we suffered today. Two drop injuries, but you’re the only one due to hostile fire.”

“I must speak to my security chief about getting me out of the line of fire more quickly next time,” Kris said.

“I’ve already talked to him about not letting you do stupid stuff next time,” her chief of security snapped back, but Jack was grinning. “No doubt you’ll ignore his sound advice,” he said, raising his beer stein in mock salute.

Kris raised her glass to clink against his.

Jack swallowed his smile and left his glass in the air. “We saw some real evil today. And we sent it to hell where it belonged.”

Lieutenant Stubben and Gunny Brown raised their beer mugs to clink against their captain’s. Kris added her own glass.

“To hell with them,” they said.

The toast caught on and swept around the room, Marine khaki and Navy whites raised their drinks to the same toast. “To hell with them.”

A shiver went down Kris’s spine. This was a good ending to a horrible day. This was what these fine people lived for. They had seen evil in the face of which even the deepest pit in hell would blush. Their commanders had given them weapons release, and they had done what they were trained to do.

The evil that was Port Royal was no more. Pure and simple, they’d wiped it from the face of this planet. A lot of it was dead and gone. Good riddance.

Penny and her forensic squad would stay dirtside as long as it took to collect evidence for the part of the evil that had avoided death today. With any kind of luck, they wouldn’t avoid it very long.

Kris sighed. No doubt it would be her job to decide how soon and how well the still-living minions got to keep breathing. She had a lot more work to do with her half-trained elephants.

She chuckled. She’d spent time with the elephants today and time with the line beasts. There was no doubt in her mind who she preferred. Still, one left her with an aching leg and the other just made her sense of justice cringe.

No question, she’d rather ache than cringe.

There was noise at the back of the lounge. Kris twisted around in her seat. The sight was well worth the effort.

Admiral Krätz was waving down those who would have rendered him formal honors. “This is a party. I came to party, not to disturb good fighting men and women at their play. Sit down, sit down, all of you.”

Krätz was the admiral; his undress greens made that clear to all. But it was the lieutenant at his side who was getting most of the attention.

Vicky was in a sedate, red cocktail dress. Kris had seen the dress in the online catalogues, and online it was in black and white. Sedate. Informal.

With Vicky’s looks and figure, there was no way that sedate stayed staid. Certainly not when the dress was hot cherry red.

Of course, Kris had seen Vicky in her wilder days on New Eden. Compared to the painted-on affairs Vicky wore then, this looked downright dowdy.

But then, on New Eden, she hadn’t walked into a roomful of young sailors and Marines.

It wasn’t the admiral who needed to order “As you were,” it was the lieutenant.

With just a hint of a nod from Jack, the LT and Gunny were on their feet. Jack stood, too, to signal the admiral and his shadow toward Kris’s table. They smiled as soon as they saw Kris and made their way to her.

The LT and Gunny stayed just long enough to be introduced to the admiral and Vicky, just long enough to accept his compliments on a day well done and for the young Marine officer and the old Gunny to thank the admiral for helping them avoid storming so well fortified a target . . . and for the admiral to insist it wasn’t anything big.

The LT left to get drinks for the admiral and Vicky. Gunny went to join the table where Command Master Chief Mong held sway, and Kris was asked to explain how things had really gone down at the N.S. tower that noon.

She did, making it clear to the Navy types present that being on the receiving end of 18-inch battle lasers should be reserved for other battleships that were designed to play in that league.

Not that they paid her any attention.

The admiral laughed as Kris described hiding under a desk that had narrowly missed reducing her to jelly. “But you yourself admit that you were in armored battle suits. All you had to do was clamp down your visor, and you had plenty of air to breathe.”

“So how come my ears were popping,” Jack pointed out.

“You should talk to your Wardhaven procurement people,” the admiral said without pausing in his laughter. “Something must be substandard.”

Kris had been at enough tables with high-powered politicians to know that the elephant here only wanted to hear how cunning he was and be thanked. Having survived the day, it was no skin off Kris’s nose to give him what he wanted.

“Well, I admit to being glad that my Marines didn’t have to storm that tower with all its autocannons and machine guns,” Kris admitted. “Vicky, did you see the hole in the ground your admiral made. Someone’s going to have to remap that lake.”

“No question about that,” Vicky agreed.

Rear Admiral Georg Krätz beamed in satisfaction.

“So, tell me,” Kris went on, “what happens next?”

“That will be very interesting,” the admiral admitted.

“Very complicated,” his lieutenant said, sipping her beer.

“Maybe, maybe not,” her superior said. “Have you ever visited one of the Navy colonies?”

Vicky shook her head.

“There are two of them, I think,” the admiral said. “They are colonies set up by the Navy. When I retire, you don’t think I want to raise chickens with just any bunch of neighbors, do you. No, I want to know I’ve got people I can count on. People I like. My kind of people.”

“So the Greenfeld Navy has set up planets for their own people to put down stakes on?” Kris said, more surprised than she wanted to admit. There was a lot Wardhaven didn’t know about Greenfeld.

As far as Kris was concerned, if she was the only one who found out about it, Admiral Crossenshield could get comfortable living in the dark.

“You got it in one.” The admiral laughed. “Who said Longknifes are dumb. Anyway, I think Port Royal will make a great addition to the collection of Navy colonies.”

“And N.S. Holdings won’t object?” Jack asked.

“There is no evidence that N.S. Holdings ever had any interest in this planet,” the admiral said with a sly grin.

“Not after the tower got turned into a pond,” Vicky said.

“Yes, yes. No evidence at all. That woman was claiming just this afternoon that they had filed a claim on this planet. We have finished our search of the records, and there is no such claim,” the admiral said with a grin.

That left Kris wondering. Had there been no such record, or was there no such record
now
?

NELLY?

I HAVE NO IDEA, KRIS. THAT’S MY STORY, AND I’M STICKING TO IT.

JUST MAKE SURE YOU
DO
STICK TO IT.

Kris turned back to the conversation. The admiral was describing some of the benefits of having Navy colonies. “You turn loose enough old goats, and it’s bound to get interesting.”

“You can’t all raise chickens,” Jack said.

“Oh no, there are those who raise cows for meat and cows for cheese. Some actually like to plow in the dirt and grow fruit and vegetables and things. No accounting for tastes even after thirty years with the fleet,” he said, distastefully.

“There wouldn’t happen to be any heavy industry on these planets?” Kris asked.

“God forbid,” the admiral said, raising his hand to elevate the pledge. “Besides, if you have spent your life around heavy weapons and high energy, you need something peaceful in your old age. Yes, maybe there is some light industry. Something to make toys for good-little-girl and -boy grandchildren. Anything else, no!”

NELLY, CALL UP THE SURVEY WE MADE OF THIS SYSTEM.

I HAVE IT, KRIS.

DIDN’T I NOTICE AN ASTEROID BELT? ONE RICH IN ALL KINDS OF METALS?

YES, KRIS. IF SOMEONE WANTED TO ESTABLISH A MAJOR NAVAL PRESENCE AND HEAVY-CONSTRUCTION FACTORIES, THEY HAVE EVERYTHING THEY NEED FOR IT OUTSIDE OF ANY STRONG GRAVITY WELL.

DO THE OTHER NAVAL COLONIES HAVE SUCH RESOURCES?

KRIS, I DON’T HAVE ANY PLANETS IN THE GREENFELD ALLIANCE THAT ARE LABELED NAVAL COLONIES. IT MAY BE THAT THEY HAVE OTHER NAMES, LIKE THIS ONE WILL LIKELY STAY PORT ROYAL. EITHER THAT, OR THEY HAVE AVOIDED OUR DETECTION. THEY ALSO AREN’T ON THE ITEECHE MAP THAT I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE.

THANK YOU, NELLY.

The conversation had taken a dark turn. Jack had pointed out that there were people on the planet who must know what was going on.

“Yes, and your Lieutenant Pasley has done a great job of building the evidentiary case against them and their crimes. Tomorrow, we will bury the merchant sailors they murdered with full honors. I expect there will be a lot of new filled graves around them. My Commander Fervenspiel is presently seating court-martials to hear the cases based on your lieutenant’s evidence.”

Kris nodded. Jack threw her a look. Kris made sure her face stayed carved in stone.

Inside it was different. PENNY, ARE YOU THERE?

IT’S GOOD TO HEAR FROM BOTH OF YOU.

HUH?

DO YOU TWO KNOW YOU BOTH JUST CALLED ME, KRIS, JACK?

NO, I DIDN’T, echoed in Kris’s head in both her and Jack’s voices. Getting the hang of Nelly and her kids’ net was still a work in progress.